The Reincarnation of Benjamin Breeg
by The Guitar Person
Summary: The boy wasn't him. Just a reflection from a long tarnished mirror. My vague take on the new DmC game.
1. Chapter 1

**_A pretty haphazard take on the new DMC by Ninja Theory. Just an attempt to tie it into the main universe, since they're still not clear whether its a complete reboot or another prequel._**

* * *

The old woman watched in silence as the Earth burned around her. The very ground had melted and a fine sheen of black-glass like material now covered what was once her hunting grounds.

The whole world had gone literally gone to Hell when he disappeared all those years ago. He had called her and said he was going away for a while. He told her to keep fighting and that he'd be back.

He promised he'd come back to the people who would sooner crucify him than admit that they needed him.

He promised he'd come back to her.

Until then, she had to fight.

But she was growing tired of fighting. Each day the sun grew dimmer and the nights got colder and every sound heard in the dark promised death.

The few remaining humans took their last stand against the menace. They dwindled swiftly, since more than half of the so-called "soldiers" really were just poor souls looking for release from Hell on Earth. They jumped readily into battle, little more than suicide-bombers, bent on taking the monsters along the ride to oblivion.

Many people, some who could not stand the horror, along with the ones who _revelled_ in it, sided with the darkness. They erected statues and buildings, made a new world order born in blood, anger and fear. The demons themselves were the leaders, the new kings of the world. The remaining humans, those not ravaged when the Underworld seized control of the Earth, became servants to the darkness.

They called the city Limbo City, which in itself was a joke and a half. Demons littered the street, the new dominant species, while humans hid in the shadows like vermin. Being eaten was almost considered a good way to go these days. Being taken to the building called _Wingsis Alae _Rehabilitation Unit, a place where nightmares were made real, was on the other end of spectrum.

And then, during one mission, full of hopelessness and death just like all the others, inside the so-called "rehabilitation center", really more of a slaughter-house for insurgents like herself, she saw _him_.

He was just a boy, barely grown into his body. His face was different but the defiance and arrogant smirk he wore during the tortures inflicted on him was painfully familiar.

During the brief hours when he was unchained, he talked with his hands, just like _he_ used to.

When he was still _him_. When he was _alive_. The woman, now battered and broken by the years, could only suffer in silence as each memory the boy elicited cut through her heart like cruel knives.

They kept asking him what his name was. She broke him out, almost exclusively because she thought she would die of utter disbelief if he ever said his name out loud.

"Hey, thanks for the save lady," he said later between puffs of cigarette smoke, sitting in the abandoned shop the woman had made her own. "I owe you big time."

"Where do you come from?" she asked immediately.

"Around."

"Your parents?"

He let out a bitter chuckle. "Take a guess."

Of course. Most children were orphans these days.

"What's your name?" she asked, the question burning in her mind. She knew it couldn't possibly be him.

"Tony. Tony Redgrave," he replied, holding out a hand for her to shake.

The name on the precious guns he always had by his side. It would be unfathomably cruel if that was merely coincidence.

She took off the dark glasses covering her eyes. "Lady."

"Wow. Really?" he said, squinting to get a look at her eyes. As soon as he saw her one crimson eye and one blue eye, he grasped his temple with one hand, letting out a quiet groan of pain.

"What's wrong? You alright?" she asked, kneeling beside him.

"Yeah," he said, shaking his head again, fixing her a pained smile. "So, Lady huh? Thanks for bailing me out again."

"Not a problem. What were you doing there by yourself anyway?"

"Needed some answers."

Interesting. She decided to probe. "How'd you survive?"

He shrugged. "Got lucky."

"No, getting killed fast is _lucky_. You don't have a scratch on you."

He growled irritably at her, rubbing the white patch of hair on his head.

White hair. Holy _shit_.

Without thinking, she drew her 9mm from her waist and shot him straight in the head. It might have been the years of constant fighting, it might have been the depression, the desperation, the sheer and utter despair she had been feeling everyday, but she _had _to know.

BLAM!

She watched in horror as he fell backwards, an unmoving heap on the ground.

The tears began to fall from her eyes as sobs racked her frame. With a final roar of frustration, she put the gun to her temple and fired.

Instead of the expected millisecond of pain and tunnel of light (or fire n' brimstone, she presumed), she felt a strong hand wrenching the pistol from her grasp, managing to move fast enough to stop the hammer from hitting the firing cartridge.

"You know, that really only works on _me_," said the boy, gripping her forearm tightly.

Her eyes widened. "Holy _shit_."

* * *

**_A/N: I most likely will not be continuing this since we really know next to nothing about how the story will play out in the new game. I'm really pretty ambivalent on the whole thing but I'm going to hold out until we see some actual gameplay._**


	2. Chapter 2

_Why should these curses be laid upon me?  
I won't be forgiven 'til I can break free  
What did I do to deserve all this guilt?  
Paid for my sins for the sale of my soul  
Demons are trapped, all inside of my head  
My hopes have gone, reach for Heaven from Hell_

"_The Reincarnation of Benjamin Breeg" by Iron Maiden

* * *

_

It had been a risk to let Trish in on her discovery.

Ever since his disappearance, the blonde she-demon had gone on a one-woman rampage, orchestrating various acts of terrorism against the new regime. During the past two years, her one time ally already had several incidents of arson, bombings and massacres under her belt, not caring who was caught in the vicinity, demons and their human slaves alike.

The first time Trish had blown up a building, a research facility she remembered, Lady had screamed herself hoarse, trying to get her to understand that even if the humans were working with the demons, they still had to be spared, if only to stand trial for their crimes.

Trish scoffed and asked her what the point was. They weren't fighting a war anymore, she said – they were trying to survive annihilation.

It wasn't right, Lady argued. Trish's next words effectively ended their partnership.

"_That's the difference between us. You're still looking for justice. I just want them dead."_

As much as it hurt to think, Trish leaving came a good time. Many of the survivors couldn't bring themselves to trust someone who never aged or got injured and could shoot lightning bolts from her hands.

"Alright, I'm here. What's so goddamn important?" said a hiss from the darkness, the blonde appearing out of nowhere beside Lady as they met in a dilapidated warehouse.

She gingerly took note of her former companion's appearance. She hadn't aged a day of course, attributed to her unholy nature, but she moved like she was bearing an immense weight on her shoulders. She stopped wearing the seductive leather ensembles and switched to Kevlar vests and army fatigues. In contrast to Lady's own lifeless gaze, Trish's eyes burned with constant, never-ending rage, the remaining embers of whatever humanity she had dying out a long time ago.

The blonde noiselessly made her way in front of Lady, removing the dark glasses she wore. Wearing a black tanktop with a pair of baggy camo pants, she looked every inch the radical militant.

"I found something in the Rehabilitation Center," began Lady tentatively.

"I hope it's the blueprints," drawled Trish again, who only ever seemed to speak in growls and snarls these days. "That thing's durable. You know I spent a hundred pounds of plastique trying to put a dent in it?"

"No," said Lady, stepping aside to let the boy stand in the light. "I found _him_."

The effect was instantaneous on Trish. As soon as she saw the boy, there was a flicker of her old self; shades of warmth and mischievous humor oddly mixing with the more pronounced blood lust and anger.

"What the fuck is _it_?" snapped the female demon, pointing a gun at the boy's temple while throwing Lady a disbelieving glare. "Anything coming from that building has to be _destroyed_. Believe me, I've seen what the sort of things they do in there and it's not exactly pretty."

"Are you not seeing this?" shouted Lady, pointing her own pistol at Trish. "He looks just like…."

"No, he _doesn't_," growled Trish, pressing the barrel of her weapon flush against the boy's temple, while keeping her eyes on Lady. "This is what you called me here for? Some fucked-up hunch you have? You know what, _Lady_, I think your brain's going _bye-bye_. I think you want for him to come back so bad that your head is _making shit up_!"

Amidst the murderous tension, the young man spoke up.

"Hey, slow down, the both of you. Don't I get a say in this?"

Lady allowed herself a small satisfied smirk as she saw the tall woman flinch visibly from the speech patterns the lad exhibited.

"I mean, we're all grown-ups here right? I'll be eighteen in a few months, so….."

Whatever had gotten into Trish when she heard the boy speak, it quickly disappeared, making way for what looked to be volcanic rage. She bared her teeth as golden sparks of lightning began to arc around her body.

"Stop _talking_," Trish snarled murderously. "You don't get to talk like _he_ did."

Before Lady could stop her, the female demon proceeded to empty an entire clip of lightning charged bullets right into the boy's temple. The warehouse was filled with a bright yellow glow as bolts of golden electricity shot forth from the barrel of Trish's gun.

"Stop!" yelled Lady amongst the noise of the barrage. "Goddamn it Trish, stop!"

It almost surprised her when the lightning infused bullet storm actually did stop but figured it was Trish simply running out of bullets.

"You fucking bitch!" screamed Lady, quickly drawing a shotgun strapped to her back and pointing it at the female demon's face. "You….you don't even _care_ anymore, do you? _Fuck_….you didn't even wait and see…"

There was a trace of cold curiosity across Trish's features, giving a sideways glance at what she presumed was the boy's smoking remains. "What the hell are you talking about?"

A low moan of pain, sent both females running over to the boy, lying spread eagled on the ground.

"Owww….Christ, is this gonna be a standard thing now?"

The women watched in morbid fascination as the burnt and torn flesh of the boy's face began to mend itself at a frighteningly rapid rate. After a few seconds, he pushed himself back up to a standing position, glaring irritably at the blonde demon.

"The lady's right," he said, giving Trish a sour look. "You _don't_ give a shit about humans."

Trish's body began glowing menacingly. "Don't you fucking mouth off to me, you hellspawned son of a bitch. You're _not_ human."

"Stop it," hissed Lady, coming between the two. "Trish, I showed you this because for some ass-backwards reason, I thought I could trust you. Guess I was wrong."

With that, she grabbed the boy by the forearm and began walking away.

"Lady, I don't know what that thing is," Trish called out to their retreating forms, her voice echoing in the vast expanse of the warehouse. "But you know as well as I do that whatever it is, it's dangerous."

The white-clad woman stopped in her tracks and turned to look at the blonde.

"And you're one of the most dangerous people I've ever met. But _he_ gave you a chance, didn't he?"

The huntress was treated to a second of stunned silence. She turned away and began to walk briskly to the exit, preparing herself for the inevitable explosion.

"He steps out of line one time, he's _dead_."

Lady didn't bother turning to look, knowing she'd see nothing but thin air in Trish's place. She looked sideways at her companion, who was kneading his temples with his fingers.

"Look on the bright side kid," she said, giving a hollow chuckle. "You moved from 'it' to 'he' in about five seconds flat."

* * *

_**A/N: I know, I said I probably wouldn't be updating this anymore but I got bored XD I'm still making this up as I go since I still don't have much to go on, story-wise. Thanks to Pink Priestess and Arktos for the wonderful reviews, they really gave me the motivation to explore this a bit more. That said, this will likely be updated sporadically, as a certain level of inspiration hits, so the next chapter may be a long ways off. I don't even really have a concrete story yet but I do already have some pivotal scenes so this fic might cover several crucial scenes, but without an actual story structure per se.**_


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